“A roofer?” I have lost count of how many times my answer to a question was responded to with that rhetorical question. Why people ask what a person does for a living in social gatherings has always been beyond the scope of my understanding. Perhaps some Pavlovian thesis may have it clarified somewhere locked in a basement like a secret scroll from the dead sea awaiting discovery.
In the meantime, for the most part I simply reply with “Yes, I roof.” Or something to that effect. Allowing the cruch phrase that tends to stimulate conversation at social gatherings to complete its less than stealth like mission.
The humorous side of me wonders how these conversations go at your local PTA meeting when someone asks the attending brain surgeon or theoretical physisist what their average workday looks like.
I supose the conversations must deviate as soon as craniotomy and spacial density of dark matter within a time and space continuim is introduced.
Basking in the warmth of an afternoon sunset at the end of a long day at work is almost always an amazing feeling. Marinating in the various shades of pink orange and blue with lavender hues against your skin sitting on a rooftop like something straight out of a picturesque movie ending can only be explained with experience.
Roofers find joy in subtle moments like these at the completion of a project.